A Magical Muggle Cold
by Lovely thoughts
Summary: After an accident in potions, Draco's cold gets turned in a magical one. Leaving him to recover without magic as his aid. Because of the circumstances, Harry Potter is to nurse him back to health. They're in for one hell of a ride.
1. Chapter 1

_A magical muggle cold_ will be a Draco/Harry story, and I will try update twice a month, but being the bussy school girl I am, it might not happen.

The story will be Boy on Boy, so if you dont like, dont read.

And please, first real attempt on a story, so reviews will be appreciated.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter!

Best regards

Lovely Thoughts

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><p><strong><span>A Magical Muggle Cold<span>**

Draco Malfoy was _not_ having a good day.

For some unintelligently reason, his head was pounding a- mile-a-minute, and it felt like Hippogriffs were practising tap dancing on his back. His usually pale complexion had a greyish tinge to it, and his hair wasn't half as glossy as it should be. Even the slightest sound made him want to turn on the spot, march back to his room, and never return. The only thing that kept him from doing just that was his reputation and grades, the Slytherins had an important potion test today he couldn't miss.

If he just steered away from noisy conversations, he should be able to survive the day.

He hoped…

Unfortunately for him, his closest acquaintance was Pansy Parkinson, the most talkative person in Slytherin possibly the whole school. He was dreading breakfast, since the combination of Pansy, food, eating and talking made his stomach churn. Draco chose to ignore it, and walked through the doors of the Great Hall.

Thankfully the Great Hall was quite empty when he arrived; only a dozen Ravenclaws and a handful of Slytherins were filling it. Something that was unusual this late in the morning, but Draco silently thanked whichever god wanting him to survive the day, and went to sit down next to Pansy. His head would make sure he regretted the action, but he wanted to figure out where the rest of the students where.

He was greeted with a sympathetic: "Good morning. Oh, you look awful Draco dear." from the girl he sat down across. Draco rolled his eyes as he reached for the toast, the only thing that looked appetizing at the moment. For being a Slytherin, Pansy sure had a habit of stating the obvious.

"Why, thank you, Pansy. Now I both feel and look awful. You've just made my day a whole lot better." He drawled, sounding very much like their favourite potion master.

Pansy, to her credit, pulled a shocked face at him, and asked in a low and frightened voice "Who are you, and what have you done to my annoyingly- cheery- in- the- morning- Dragon?"

"He died a slow and very painful death on his way here."

"That bad, huh?" She asked, and Draco nodded

They looked at each other and smirked, ending the morning greeting in a very Slytherin fashion. The moment however was broken when a Ravenclaw managed to drop the book he was reading. The loud sound it made as it hit the floor made Draco flinch, his head once again throbbing in protest. Thank Merlin the room had been quiet until then. That reminded him…

"Where are the rest of the students?" He asked the fellow Slytherin sitting by his side.

She shrugged. "Apparently, half of the castle has fallen ill. A bad case of muggle cold they said. The other half is visiting in the hospital wing, making sure they are okay. They will probably be back to lunch."

Draco stopped trying to force down that damn piece of bread and turned towards her. "A muggle cold? Aren't magical people supposed to be immune to that?" He questioned, trying to remember the little he knew about muggle colds. 'Let's see…' he thought. 'The patient gets a bad cought, high fever, easily tired…' there was something more, but Draco couldn't remember what.

"Well, yes. I guess, but those viruses are supposed to be really tricky, something about adapting to magic and such. Nothing a potion or two can't handle, though." Pansy told him offhandedly, and Draco decided to let the matter drop.

"So, where were you last night? I didn't see you in the dormitory." He asked. Knowing his head would hate him for it later, he sat back and tried to find a comfortable position for his aching muscles and prepared for a long breakfast.

*half an hour later*

How he wish he hadn't…

His head was pounding worse than he ever had imagined it could, including his worst hangovers, and his body was practically screaming for mercy. Malfoy rules be damned, he wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. Draco tried, he really did, to concentrate on Pansy's voice, but it seemed impossible to actually understand what she was saying. Whatever Dean Thomas did, Draco couldn't muster up energy to care; he was much too busy trying to stay conscious.

A hand touched his shoulder. "Are you okay, Draco?" Pansy asked, sounding worried. "I'm fine, just a bit dizzy." He answered, shrugging her hand off. "Let's go, we have potions first thing today."

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Draco, who had risen from the table, simply nodded.

They went to potions together. When they arrived the room was empty, and they snatched seats somewhere in the middle of the room. It was a perfect place really, not close enough to be instantly watched be Snape, and not that far in the back they couldn't hear what were said.

The door opened, and Snape walked into the room. Speak of the devil and he will appear, Draco thought amused. The man walked to his desk and seized the only two students that apparently would attend his lesson. He raised an eyebrow. "This looks like it will be a peaceful test." The professor stated, but before he could get continue, a knock was heard from behind the door. Draco thought he heard a "or not" coming from Snape as he walked over and opened it, but he wouldn't bet on it. He was surprised he actually could hear _anything_ over the pounding in his head. Turning his attention back on the sight in front of him, Draco felt his eyes widen. Harry Potter, the Bloody Boy Who Lived to defeat He Who Must Not Be Named, was standing in the doorframe looking winded and out of breath. He was saying something to Snape and handing him a note.

"What do you think he is doing?" Pansy whispered, low enough for only Draco to hear. Potters eyes fell on him and narrowed. Draco held his gaze and used this opportunity to seize him up. The green eyed boy was still as short as he used to be, but not as scrawny. He had grown his hair, now letting it fall to his shoulders, making it controllable. Full lips, green eyes, high cheekbones and a petite build made him look, for lack of better words, cute.

Realizing exactly what he was thinking, Draco shook his head forcefully, trying to get rid of the image his mind supplied him. Realising that shaking his head did nothing but make his head hurt, he stopped. Potter's frown deepened. Why was he frowning? Draco hadn't said anything vile to him yet.

He was abruptly dragged out of his thinking box as professor Snape gestured Potter to sit down. "Glad to see you gracing us with your presence today, Mr Potter. Five points from Gryffindor for being late. Please state the three uses of Pixie blood in potions." Snape sneered at him, falling into the role as the hated potions master with ease.

Potter just looked at him, tilting his head as if he was trying to solve a puzzle and answered without hesitation. "Pixiedust are only used in healing potions, sir. It strengthens the immune system, and shortens the patient's recovery time. When in a healing coma, pixie dust will stimulate the body and make sure it doesn't shut down." Draco felt his eyes widen and he was sure Pansy had a similar reaction. Snape however, showed no sign of surprise. "Correct" he said and turned towards Draco and Pansy, Potter silently seating himself on the desk next to Draco. "You'll be making a cold potion today. Since the rest of the class is absent the test will be retaken next week. The instructions are written on the blackboard, so get to work."

Draco felt like groaning. All this stress for nothing! He could have spent the day in bed, resting! Somebody wanted him to suffer. Badly.

Trying to pull himself together, Draco set to work. The cold potion wasn't hard to make, but unstable. One mistake and the potion could explode in the face of the brewer, and Draco wasn't feeling well. Just perfect.

He was halfway through the instructions when his vision started spinning. His head throbbed and he felt lightheaded. The last thing he saw before the world went black was Potter lying on top of him, saying things he was incapable of catching.

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><p>What do you think? Like it? Hate it?<p>

Naxt chapter will be from Harrys P.o.v.


	2. Chapter 2

Hia Guys! Gess what! Chapter two is out! But damn, this is hard. It feels like the plot bunnies hate me! Who would have thought?

Please read and give me some Sirius feedback! I need it badly!

Enjoy chapter two folks!

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><p>Chapter 2- Dragon scales<p>

Harry knew it had been a bad idea to let Malfoy finish the potion class. The boy should have been hauled to the hospital wing at once, but no, Harry had decided to wait, Snape hadn't commented on his godson's sickly looking appearance and Parkinson… Ha actually had no idea what Parkinson had done or hadn't done, but it didn't really matter. What mattered was that nobody had done anything.

As soon as Malfoy had started swaying, Harry had been out of his seat. He caught him just before the blond contacted with the floor, and saved him the headache the hit would undoubtly have given him. Glad to have avoided more healing work for himself, Harry gently lowered him to the floor, checking for damage as he did. Finding none other than the obvious cold symptoms, he rose to check the potion Malfoy had been making. Dragon scales had not been a part of the potion, as far as he knew, and after a summer spent studying potion making and healing under supervision of Madam Pomfrey, Harry felt he had all rights to be worried. After all, Dragon scales were well known for their protection against magic, and no, the boy who lived didn't believe it would make a great combination. Why Malfoy even had been planning to use them, Harry had no idea.

Ignoring Parkinson's worried cries and Snape's demands for an explanation; the-boy-who-lived-to-defeat noticed three things:

There was no dragon scales on the desk Malfoy had been using.

The cauldron was very slowly tipping over the edge of the workdesk.

Draco Malfoy was lying unconscious and sick where the cauldron most likely was to spill it's contains.

…Well shit, Harry knew trouble when he saw it.

Not knowing what effects the potion could have, but having no doubt he would suffer less than Malfoy, Harry dived, trying to reach the sick boy before the gleaming, midnight blue potion did.

Harry attempted to push Malfoy out of the way, but was unsuccessful, seeing the boy was at least three inches taller and serval pounds heavier. Wanting to minimalize the damage the potion could to the blonde, he draped himself over the sick blond hoping the potion effect wouldn't hurt too bad.

The potion hit him not seconds later, and Harry had to stifle a groan at the intense burning spreading to his lower back. But as soon as the pain came, it vanished, leaving Harry gasping for breath. Someone, Snape he realised, pushed him off Malfoy and started examining the blonde.

Parkinson, to his surprise, kneeled down next to him. "Are you okay Potter?" She asked as her eyes drifted over his frame, looking for potion symptoms and abnormal body parts. When none was found, she nodded to herself and helped, actually _helped _him up. (Oh, come on Potter, close your mouth, its unbecoming.)

After taking a moment to collect himself, Harry thanked the witch and went to see how Malfoy was coming along. As a mediwizard in training, assistant of Poppy Pomfrey, Malfoy was now considered a patient of his until a more capable healer came along.

Straightening up, Harry addressed the worried potion master in front of him. "Sir, if you please could identify the potion. Malfoy needs to be taken to the hospital wing as soon as possible. His condition needs to be taken under control." As soon as he was done speaking, Malfoy started to sweat and shiver uncontrollably. The green hue mixing with his pale completion was making Harry worried. A muggle cold should not have this effect on a magical being, no matter how serve. Whatever the potion had done to the poor boy, it hadn't helped his health.

Crouching down beside the blonde, Harry checked his pulse, which was thrumming wildly, and quickly looked him over for any injuries that needed immediate attention.

"Will he be fine?" Parkinson had snuck behind him, and was watching Malfoy with worried eyes. Harry smiled reassuringly and told her kindly to give him some space. The witch stepped back without protests.

"He'll most likely be fine. His immune system was weak when the potion took effect, making his body vulnerable, adding the obvious cold symptoms he have…" Parkinson flinched, looking guilt ridden and upset at this. "It's not your fault, Parkinson." He said, trying to calm the girl down. "Malfoy should have visited the hospital wing as soon as he woke up."

But Malfoy, being Malfoy hadn't, and now it was Harry's job to bring him there.

"In fact, I think a visit to Madam Pomfrey is in turn, don't you agree?" He said. After receiving a nod from the girl, he grabbed a hold of Malfoy shoulder and asked the witch to do the same. "We'll see you later, Professor. Thank you for your assistance." Harry added, remembering the potion master who was studying the potion. They man didn't answer, but nodded courtly. It was the last thing Harry saw before the portkey to the hospital wing was activated, and the uncomfortable pull from behind his navel took him away.

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><p>I know, I know, it's short and probably badly written with lots of mistakes. But I wanted to update before the weekend was over.<p>

Feedback would be nice. I'll give you a cookie if you do! ;)


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